nd didn't know which
way to go. We lingered a little, much disgusted, but still hoping we
might see something, when suddenly we heard again distant sounds of
horns and yelping dogs. The man on the other side waved his cap
wildly, pointed to the woods, and started off full gallop. In a few
minutes the hill slope was alive with hunters coming up from all
sides. We were nearly mad with impatience, but couldn't swim across
the canal, the bridge was still open, the barge lumbering through. The
children with their Fraeulein and some of the party crossed a little
lower down on a crazy little plank, which I certainly shouldn't have
dared attempt, and at last the bargeman took pity on us and put us
across. We raced along the bank as fast as we could, but the canal
turns a great deal, and a bend prevented our seeing the stag, with the
hounds at his heels, galloping down the slope and finally jumping
into the canal, just where it widens out and makes a sort of lake
between our hamlet of Bourneville and Marolles. It was a pretty sight,
all the hunters dismounted, walking along the edge of the water,
sounding their hallali, the entire population of Bourneville and
Marolles and all our household arriving in hot haste, and groups of
led horses and valets de chiens in their green coats half-way up the
slope. The stag, a very fine one, was swimming round and round, every
now and then making an effort to get up the bank, and falling back
heavily--he was nearly done, half his body sinking in the water, and
his great eyes looking around to see if any one would help him. I went
back to the barge (they had stayed, too, to see the sight), and the
woman, a nice, clean, motherly body with two babies clinging to her,
was much excited over the cruelty of the thing.

[Illustration: I suggested that the whole chasse should adjourn to the
chateau.]

"Madame trouve que c'est bien de tourmenter une pauvre bete qui ne
fait de mal a personne, pour s'amuser?" Madame found that rather
difficult to answer, and turned the conversation to her life on the
barge. The minute little cabin looked clean, with several pots of red
geraniums, clean muslin curtains, a canary bird, and a nondescript
sort of dog, who, she told me, was very useful, taking care of the
children and keeping them from falling into the water when she was
obliged to leave them on the boat while she went on shore to get her
provisions. I asked: "_How_ does he keep them from falling into the